It Was a Very Different Time
by Lily-L-Bell
Summary: With the house to themselves Denmark coaxes Norway into looking up fanfiction featuring them. What he finds to be most common leaves him unsettled and dredges up memories of their past. Do a thousand years make his actions excusable?  M - Suggested Sex


It Was a Very Different Time

"And do you have your tooth brush?"

"Yes."

"And your hair brush?"

"Yes."

"Do you have hand sanitizer?"

"I'm sure there's hand sanitizer in Hong Kong." Sighed the youngest Nordic nation as he threw his back pack over his shoulder.

"Your phone charger." His elder brother added, holding out the black adapter to his younger. Iceland was leaving to spend a week in Hong Kong. The young nation's friend had invited him to visit and spend time with him while celebrating the Chinese New Year and so he'd be leaving to catch his plane soon.

"Yes _**mother.**_" The teenager groaned, accepting the adapter and shoving it in his pocket. "Is that all? I'm going to be late and miss my flight. The taxi's pulling up."

"I suppose so. Call the house when you arrive in Hong Kong." Norway chided, walking with his brother out into the cold January air.

"I will, I promise." The Icelander groaned as he jumped down the steps… pausing on the final one and then marching back up to his brother to give him a quick, tight embrace. "Bye, see you in a week. Don't tell the Dane I did that or I'll never do it again!" He huffed, finally satisfied, before dashing (as safely as possible) down the icy drive to hop in the warm and welcoming cab.

Norway stood on the porch and watched until the cab was out of sight before returning to the house. He'd not been wearing a jacket or boots and so he was quite happy to be back indoors. He had dinner in the oven (Denmark had pestered him to make some kind of chicken casserole) and he used the appliances' warmth to bring his fingers back to life. He hadn't been expecting to stand on the porch and watch the cab go, but it carried his little brother, and he wanted that should Ice look back, his 'brother dearest' would still be on that porch waiting for him to come home. Is this how one feels when they have raised a child? Willing to freeze ones' ass off to give them a comfort that they may or may not choose to take?

"Norge, Norge." The sound of Denmark's voice slammed against his ears.

"Yes idiot?" huffed the Norwegian at the stove as he felt the big arms come around his waist and squeeze him maybe just a little tighter than what he would have welcomed. He let his rigid body language speak for him, and the hold slackened slightly.

"Ice left hm?" The one who asked the question planted a kiss behind Norway's ear.

"Yes. He's gone to Hong Kong. He got invited to a Chinese New Year celebration and I encouraged it. He needs more friends his age." He flexed his fingers and turned his hands over so that the other side may be warmed by the heat radiating off the oven.

The Dane took one of those chilly hands into both his own and rubbing it to create friction. The hot breath he sent ghosting over the pale, slender fingers wasn't too bad either. "So _mor_ and _far_ have the house to themselves for the week?" The eldest of the Nordic nations inquired suggestively. Though the Norwegian couldn't see it, he could feel the smirk pressed against the skin of his neck. One of the hands around his waist rubbing circles against his torso.

"Ice hasn't even been out the door ten minutes and you're already starting in with me?" Norway huffed, shaking himself free of the Dane's hold, eliciting a sigh from his elder.

"Come on Norge, we haven't done it in so long." The Dane pouted, shadowing Norway as the smaller man ghosted about the kitchen cleaning up the dishes he had used to prepare the meal.

"What are you talking about? We fornicated last weekend."

Denmark shuddered. "Don't call it 'fornicating' it sounds bad. And that's not what I'm talking about. IT! IT! I miss how we USED to do it? Remember?" The royal blue eyes sparkled at a distant memory.

Norway rolled his eyes as he dried a dish with the rag. "How is the sex we have now any different from the sex we've had in the past?" Daring the Dane to enlighten him. While he waited he checked the casserole. It was done so he took it out, but left the foil on over the top of it. It wouldn't do much more than keep the meal warm until the Dane got his 'celibacy' rant out of his system and they could eat. He'd not heard it in a while so he figured he was due to hear his 'bror' bitch.

"You know full well it's different. Now we have the quiet 'Oh god don't moan too loud or shake the bed too much! We might wake up Iceland down the hall! Let's not get caught!' sex. I miss the old sex. You remember right?" He purred, coming up behind the Norwegian and once again enveloping him in an embrace. "Remember my long boat? Hm?" He planted a heated kiss to the back of the Norwegian's ear again. "Remember how we'd lay furs down in the bottom of the boat and we'd row out into the middle of the lake where it was just you, me, and the stars? And we'd crash together like we were the only two people on the planet? Like fire and ice when it created the universe?" He began rubbing a hand up and down the front of Norway's sweater. Norway did remember those times, and lost in his memory he tipped his head to the side, allowing Denmark more access to his neck and jaw line.

"Remember being in a military camp? Waiting to go into battle and not knowing if we'd ever see another starry sky together? Hm~. We would close the flap of our tent and make love through the night and we didn't give two shits if any of the men heard us. Fuck them. We're the souls of their nations and our union is sacred. If anything it symbolized the strength of our alliance, how we'd fight and die together." He continued his ministrations, painting the pictures of their past vividly behind the Norwegian's eyelids. Norway was giving in. Yes, he did miss those times when they had been young and cocky and fierce. When it felt like they ruled the world and merely allowed all others to live in it. When they were masters of the tide, unmatched in savagery, and feared by all who would get in their way. No one questioned their union, no one had the stones to dare. But that blood lust had always been best when sated behind tent flaps or in the bottom of a long boat. When, with reckless abandon, they would give themselves over to each other. It was not slow, it was not sweet; it was a battle. In those days it was a fight they lived for! You achieved the highest glory if you died in combat! So was it wrong to mix their greatest honor with the greatest of pleasures?

How Norway almost MISSED waking in the morning without the ability to move, and being met with the smell of sweat and blood stuck to their skin. Modern times had done much to settle the vicious Viking hiding under the half-lidded indigo gaze of the Norwegian.

"Alright." He spoke to the Dane and twisted over in the embrace to kiss the jaw line. "You've won this one." He sighed. It had been a rather long stretch since the last time they had allowed themselves to be rough and brutal with each other… the way they both preferred it but could never swing it with the young Iceland at home. Norway would be just mortified at the idea of his brother knowing how their intimacy tended to leave him bed ridden for an afternoon. He was sure the Icelander must be aware that he and the Dane were a 'close' couple, but he didn't need him aware of the details of their sex life. Norway preferred it privately kept between the two of them.

Denmark burst into a leering grin. "Hm. I have an idea that could put us in the mood. I heard from England that Francis likes to use it with him."

"I'm not doing something creepy." The Norwegian grunted dangerously. That Frenchman was known for his strange taste in mood-setters. And why was Denmark listening to England? The two only spent time together when they were getting plowed with the former Duchy of Prussia after a world meeting. Most likely whatever the Englishman had told him had been slurred through a mouthful of some horrendous English brew.

"People write stories about us and post them on the internet. I've never actually looked for ones about you and me, but England mentioned that people have written some kinky stories about Francis and him."

"That's creepy, people writing fantasies about our sex life? I don't really like that." The Norwegian deadpanned.

"Mmm~ Come on, let's just try it once."

"You always want to try new things. What happened to the tried and true?"

"Please Norge? I'll give you a back massage later if we give it a shot. I'm curious." He purred against the flesh of the Norwegian's neck.

"Fine." Huffed Norway as he was lead to the computer chair and propped up on the Dane's knee. It didn't take very long for the Dane to locate a proper website for it.

"Let's see." The Dane licked his lips. "Rating. M of course." He purred, leaning his face in to nip at the Norwegian's neck and ears again. His normally stoic lover, easing into the idea, reciprocated in the displays of affection. No one was watching after all. He proceeded to busy himself with nipping and sucking at the muscular neck of the ex-conqueror. "Language? Meh, we're multilingual, it doesn't matter. Character A? Denmark. Character B? Norway. Alrighty." And with that he clicked on 'Go' but took a moment to push his lips against the Norwegian's while he waited for the website to load. This kisses were a battle of teeth and tongue. Norge always knew exactly which way to tilt his pretty head to give the Dane exactly what he wanted. Denmark captured the little pink tongue with his lips and coaxed his own inside the hot chasm, lungs filled only enough to count the top row of his lover's teeth. Finally, breathlessly, they broke away. Alright, what to read?

He positioned the Norwegian comfortably on his knee and rested his head against the shorter man's soft cheek. With a contented sigh he began reading over the summaries.

He frowned at the first one. It had a warning for rape. That certainly wasn't going to light his fire.

His frown deepened as he read the next few summaries. Rape, rape, abuse, torture, rape, rape, rape, kidnapping, rape… What the hell! He clung on tightly to the Norwegian's waist (who wasn't paying any attention to the monitor, and was still in fact planting kisses along the Dane's jaw and running his fingers through the wild hair, trying to keep the embers of their intimacy red and glowing.) "What's wrong? Everything too long a read?" Norway sighed breathily, pulling away to see the look of horror on his lover's face.

"_Nej, de__er ikke alt for__længe__._" He couldn't even think to respond in English. His eyes were like sauce pans and his jaw was clentched shut like a vice. Some dark, guilty thought came to the forefront of his mind. A long ago memory. What were the implications now? "Norge, have I ever raped you?" He whimpered, not able to look his lover in the eye.

… What the hell?

The Norwegian's face betrayed this sentiment as he turned his own face to the monitor… well damn it.

"They're just nonsense stories, they don't mean anything." He tried to sooth his lover, making motions to revive the lusty exchange of kisses as he went back to carding his fingers through the Dane's mane of hair.

"People think our relationship is based on me torturing and raping you…"

"It doesn't matter. Let it be. Come on, take me to the bedroom." Norway was desperately trying to hang on to the coals of what they had started, but it was no use. The Dane was shot. "Let's just have dinner and go to bed." The words slammed against his ears like the sound of iron on concrete. It was a loveless, broken, scraping sound! Damn it!

He clambered down off of Denmark's knee as the taller nation made a motion to head back into the other room. Norway glared into the computer monitor and, out of sexual frustration, swung at it. His fist didn't make any contact, but the troll spirit that frequently hovered nearby left it a sparking mess on the floor… … … he'd buy Denmark a laptop later to make up for it, but right now he had to focus on having lost out on an amazing night of passionate abandon! How subject his lover's mood could be to outside factors!

"Denmark, you're not like that."

"I can't believe people see me as some kind of a sociopathic rape-monkey!"

… Rape monkey… sure… that turn of phrase made total sense…

"They don't understand, besides, they don't need to. Our intimate life is private. I like it the way it is. Who cares what some pathetic little people who don't even know us think?"

"Norge, do you feel like I raped you?" He asked, not being easily deterred from the topic, leaning over the sink and staring angrily out at the snow. Something deeper was going on here, something bigger under the surface and buried in Denmark's ancient history.

"… No." The Norwegian stated cautiously, not knowing if the Dane meant more by the question. Sure as god makes little green apples, though, he did.

"Not even the first time you came to live with me?"

Well, damn. That was… a rough memory. He sighed, remembering the feel of Denmark's fists making contact with the back of his head, leaving him dazed and disoriented. He remembered the feel of the cold metal shackles as they were placed over his wrists before he was lost to the world. When he'd awoken it'd been many hours later, and he was being carted away as a prize of conquest on the Dane's ship. Denmark itself did not conquer Norway, however, at this point the Dane didn't really know the identity of the beautiful creature he had captured. He'd listened patiently as his captor bragged to his soldiers; boasting about defeating and now possessing an Alfer as his slave. The giant idiot really believed he'd captured a member of a mystic race! An ELF! He couldn't hide the sigh that escaped his lips as he laid his head back down on the soft furs in the bottom of the long boat. He'd have to give his captor a stern talking to later when he was not surrounded by his brutish gaggle! Until then, he would wait quiet and mutely. It wouldn't be prudent to start running his mouth until they had a moment alone.

Of course, that time didn't come easily. He was roughly and haphazardly dragged off the boat once they had reached Denmark's camp where he was thrust into the house of the Dane, and his shackles clasped to the wall. "Pretty creature. Do you speak my language?" The Dane crowed, making a move to grab the Norwegian by the chin to better inspect his prize. Not one to be spoken to in such a way Norway snapped his teeth at Denmark.

"Of course I speak your language! I'm not an Alfer you stupid, piss gargling, miscarried son of a sow!" Norway spat out, trying his hands against his shackles. "You will release me and return me to England! Immediately!"

The Dane scratched at his head. "You're a feisty critter. I like that. You're really pretty and you are my prize for my work. You're the only boon I'm getting for my troubles in raiding your village. I made a deal with my men that I would concede all my rights to the gold and fineries if I got to keep the pretty creature I captured. That's why no one's been allowed to touch you or treat you roughly. No one would dare damage my property." The barbarian licked his lips at the figure chained to his wall. He had always preferred the male conquest. In his respected position he had first pick of the women in the villages where they raided. While he had sullied many a foreign virgin in his time it never pleased him, the idea of taking one back with him. Females were no challenge, and with time he had become all but completely bored of them, leaving them to be devoured by the lusty pack of wolves he commanded. Men, however, never ceased to be a challenge. No man wanted to lose his status and become a woman! But this creature was so pretty, so captivating. Denmark simply HAD to have him, possess him. He couldn't let the chance go and have some other snatch it up! But this creature was still full of spit and fire.

"It wasn't my village!" Spat the indigo eyed man. "I am Norwegian and I was there on order from my King! You will return me there. Now unshackle me so that I may kick your ill-begotten ass!" Norway had been a fierce conqueror in his own right in those days. Had he not sent forth people to settle Svalbard, the Faroe Islands and Iceland? (To name only a few.) However, he dared not reveal what he really was to this barbarian. If he were to know that his captive was the very soul of Norway? He would be ransomed and used as a tool against his king!

"Nope, you're going to be my bride so you're just going to have to stay shackled there until some of that spit and vinegar in you leaks out and you accept your lot. It's a nice home so I expect you'll keep it well _min kaere_. And if you're a sweet little wife to me I'll treat you good." He leered suggestively down at his living prize, licking his chops hungrily like the wolf he was. It was obvious what he meant by that. What he had planned.

He could not believe what he had just heard! Expected to play the little wife to this boorish, brainless, this… this… IDIOT! He'd sooner wilt away!

"I won't do it." He glared dangerously.

"Then you'll just stay chained up there forever." Chortled the Dane with a shrug before one of the Danish soldiers appeared at the door to call him away. He didn't put much faith in the Norwegian's comment. Everyone broke down eventually.

And eventually, though it did take quite a long time, Norway did break down. He had gotten used to the Dane, and though his chains were long enough that he could wander the small home and tend the fire freely, he could not step outside. He wanted to go outside! He had been brought to the Dane's camp at the end of the raiding season, and had spent the autumn chained to the wall… Now it was well into winter, so far that it would not be more than a month, maybe a month and a half (he'd lost track of the days while living in the small home) before the Dane would set back out in his boat. And where would Norge be then? In all this time he had not had a breath of fresh, outdoor air. He had barely gotten a peek of another living creature other than Denmark. He was completely dependent on the Dane returning with food, water and firewood for his general needs. Of course, he was expected to cook the food he returned with, but the Dane had made it a rule that should Norge make him cook than Norge would get nothing. But should Norge cook he could not only eat, but he would be allowed to eat first and eat as much as he would like, he could eat his fill if it contented him. It was a small sacrifice to make in the interest of being able to eat himself to contentment. Some nights it felt like he ate better cooking meals for his captor than he may have if he'd been out hunting himself.

But this changed little; he wanted to smell the fresh air again! He wanted to see other people again! To feel the snow crunch under his feet! And as time passed, it seemed like less and less of a sacrifice to get these simple things.

"Denmark?"

"What is it Norge?" As he'd taken to calling his pet, who had refused to give him a proper name to call him by and only seemed to consistently convey being Norwegian. He'd just come to call him after his homeland.

"Will you take these chains off me?" He asked, indicating the clasps around his ankles and wrists.

"You know what you have to do to get me to do that." The Dane didn't even look up from the maps on the table. They had had this conversation a few times before, and the Norwegian continued to be fickle. If he would remain fickle, he would remain chained.

"I know. I can see sunshine through the crack in the door. I'll be your bride if you'll just take me outside so I can smell the fresh air and go for a walk." He vowed, making the Dane look up in surprise.

"You won't run away?"

"I won't."

"And what if I said I don't believe you?"

"Then you can keep one chain around my wrist and if I try to run you can drag me back." He felt so small and feeble trapped in this little home. He was willing to do anything at this point to get a lung full of fresh air and feel the sunshine on his face and hear the snow crunch under his boots again.

"Alright. Then we'll go for a walk." Grinned Denmark, his maps completely forgotten as he removed all the chains from the Norwegian's ankles and one from his wrist save the other to act as his leash. Norway released a sigh. It felt so amazing for the weight to be removed.

The walk had been short. The Norwegian had been such a long time bearing the heavy weight of his bonds, without walking through the snow and breathing the fresh, cold air that it was a little startling at first. But the Dane led him around the small village with the flashing grin of a proud pet owner. The trip lasted only maybe a half hour, before he was led back into the home where Denmark shut and locked the door, wearing the key around his neck. He still didn't trust his new bride not to run away when his back was turned. He stared like a hawk at him. "I'm hungry." He stated, approaching the Norwegian and removing the final clasp. He was free! There was no longer the weight of oppression on his limbs. His awkward gawking at the renewed weightlessness of his hands (it'd been so long since he saw his wrists!) was interrupted by his master continuing. "You can start dinner." Denmark returned to looking over his maps, but would consistently peer over the top of them to watch what the Norwegian was doing.

Nothing unusual. It was exactly how he always prepared the meal. As though he was still wearing the shackles, but there seemed to be a little more life in him now that he had gotten his fresh air, freedom of mobility, and sunshine. The meal tasted as it always did. The Norwegian behaved as he usually did throughout the rest of the day in fact. But the real test came when Denmark watched his pretty creature wander over to the pile of furs that was his usual bed.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked.

"To bed." Was the flat answer, as though it were the only obvious one.

"You're my bride, you sleep in my bed now." Leered the Dane, licking his chops at the figure of the Norwegian becoming tense and rigid.

"I'd rather not."

"You're my bride." He answered. As though it were the obvious one. "I promised; I'll be good to you." The grin did not fade from the taller man's countenance as, grumbling, Norge threw himself on the one hay-stuffed cot he had never so much as approached before. It was much more comfortable than the floor, but it ceased being so when the Dane slid in behind him, wrapping his arms around his slender pale waist, and starting in. It began with kisses to his neck and ears which grew into bites and caresses of the hands.

"Hm~ I love you so much. You're so beautiful. Hm~ More beautiful than Freyja." The Dane purred as his hands wandered the expanse of bone white Norwegian skin.

Norway clenched his eyes shut. Damn his body! Betraying him! He didn't WANT to react to his captor's touches, but he was! He could punch him now! There was the sword beside the bed! It would take only a matter of seconds to have it in his hand, unsheathe it, and bury the blade in the conqueror's neck. Oh but the Dane was leaving him breathless, touching him in ways he'd never been before.

"Wait!" He gasped, wriggling over and pushing the Dane's face away from his body with his hands, causing the Dane to give pause.

"What?" He was surprised by the very idea that his new bride would even have the guts to stop him now!

"C-Can I go for another walk tomorrow?" He questioned, his indigo eyes, for once, open in panic. Denmark wouldn't take away his one joy from him once he'd gotten what he wanted, right? He wouldn't be chained back to the wall?

The surprise melted off the Dane's face. Denmark instead reinitiated his ministrations, planting kisses on and lapping his tongue against the white fingers pressed against his face before murmuring. "Weather permitting I'll take you out for as long a walk as you want. Now lay back down, I'm going to do wonderful things to you." The captor vowed.

Norway felt such disgust in himself. The Dane hadn't lied. The things he was doing, the things he was making him feel? He couldn't hide how his body reacted. He simply couldn't kill the Dane, not yet. Not with this feeling welling up inside of him and crashing over him like the waves on the rocky shore of his own homeland. Some string of words dripped passed his lips. He begged for something. Was it to ask the Dane to kiss him? It must have been as Denmark gave to the request; kissing him harshly… it was almost like biting! He asked for it! He begged for more! He allowed himself to be taken as the Dane's captive bride. Denmark was captivating, carnal, savage! It was making something twist and turn inside the Norwegian. Why didn't he just kick and bite and punch and try to break free! He could. He could so easily! Denmark was leaving himself open, vulnerable, weak! It would take nothing to incapacitate him! And yet Norway simply decided he'd rather finish, rather reach that magical place Denmark had promised to take him too… maybe he'd kill him when they were done. Maybe tomorrow after his walk. Maybe he'd just figure it out later.

"You're amazing. I love you." The Dane purred the next morning, dragging his hand against the Norwegian's bone white back. He didn't get a reply of reciprocation, but he didn't get pushed away either.

"We are still going for a walk?" Was all he got.

"Yes. I'll take you for a walk. Put your clothes on." He grinned, taking one last chance to marvel at his new bride's beautiful, claimed body.

This walk was not destined to be as easy as the last. Once more, his wrist was shackled, but that didn't hinder him as much as his new found pain in walking. It shot through his hips and lower back. He fell to his knees before he even made it to the door and cried. He sobbed into the dirt floor of the home. It wasn't fair! And he expressed this. He WAILED it. He'd given himself up to his captor, turned over his freedom so willing and wantonly simply for the sake of a few hours of sunshine and fresh air! Now he could not walk without being filled with the shooting pain.

Denmark sighed, looking over the sad heap of his new bride. Unceremoniously he bent over and pulled him up into his arms to set him on his feet, before kneeling down with his back facing the confused Norwegian. "Climb on. I promised you right?" He asked, smirking up into Norge's face. "For as long as you want today, for being such a good little wife. I didn't forget." He winked.

For some reason, the act of carrying him about in the winter air touched the Norwegian. Denmark could have easily just said; "You can't walk, you can't go out today." Instead, he decided to inconvenience himself to keep his promise. Norway rested his head against the broad shoulder. "Thank you." He whispered, eliciting a bigger smile from the Dane.

The story continued on in much the same fashion. Over the course of the next month and a half each night was spent in the Dane hold as he was brought to the edge of his sanity and back, sometimes more than once leaving him to wake every morning to the smell of their tryst, sweat and blood. Each day was spent with Denmark taking Siguard out into the fresh air, weather permitted.

However, the sunny weeks passed quickly, and there was once more another snow storm, maybe the last of the winter, but it didn't change the fact that he was trapped in doors with the Dane. Every night he would ask if they could go for a walk the next day, and he would receive the answer. "If the weather is permitting." And the next day it would prove not to be. The day would continue to be spent in the cot being loved by the Dane.

"You say you love me." He murmured on one of these days.

"I do love you." The Dane grinned.

"I do know what you are. You're the spirit of Denmark."

"I know. I don't care that you know."

"No… do you have a mortal name? Were you ever given one?" He asked, tilting his head to give the man nipping and sucking at his neck better access.

"I do. Do you have a real name? My pretty Norge." That was right, he'd never bothered to give Denmark his real name, or his true identity.

"It's Siguard. My name is Siguard."

"What a noble name." Cooed the Dane, ghosting his breath against Siguard's adam's apple.

"Mine is Mathias."

"That's a foreign name."

"I'm the spirit of Denmark. I wasn't born with a name like you were. I got one much later."

… this was the time for tests. "I wasn't born with a name either." Siguard confessed. "I got it from my King. He didn't like me parading around without seeming mortal. … You call me Norge because I'm Norwegian, but it would better fit because I'm Norway." He confessed, staring up into the face of the man who had both taken him captive and captivated him. It might now be all over. His time as a lover may now end to begin his time as a ransom.

His fear was fuddled when the Dane began laughing, deep, booming laughs.

"Well, I knew you couldn't be a mortal. I guess you really aren't an Alfer then hm? NORWAY. Wow. I am probably the bastard with the strangest luck on the planet." He whistled. "But it makes me just want you more." He leered suggestively, returning to his previous ministrations of intimacy.

"You aren't going to ransom me to my king?" The rigid spirit of Norway inquired.

"Why would I? I'd have to give you back. I want to hang onto you as long as I can… until your king finds out… and mine MAKES me give you back. You're still my bride until then, I don't want to share you. I want you here with me… What?" He inquired, surprised at the sauce platter eyes the Norwegian was staring at him with.

Denmark… no MATHIAS… was willing to hold on to him, keep him, love him, want and desire him, until he was MADE to return him. Not 'until the king offers me enough for your pound of flesh' something stirred inside him. He should have wanted for the day when his King would find him to be in Denmark, but it was the farthest from his mind in the moment.

"Mathias!" he cried out, capturing the face of his captor turned lover. "Love me!" he demanded, for the first time, initiating a kiss.

The Dane needed little coaxing. He reciprocated with his usual amount of passion. When they finally broke, breathless and gasping, he asked. "What changed?"

"Just that I love you now."

Coming back into the present Norway crossed his arms about his chest. "That was a very different time Denmark."

"Does it excuse it?"

"By modern standards? No. But in those days it was common. Many unions of people were based on the kidnapping of brides. And to be fair, you never beat me while I was kept in your home. You never raped me while I was still chained."

"But you didn't want to have sex with me that first time. I did anyway."

"I suppose you did, and you are right, I really didn't want to initially." The Norwegian sighed, coming up to lean against the sink and stare out into the snow as well. "But I could have stopped you. I could have fought you off. Instead of actually asking you to touch me. When it was all over, and you were dead asleep, I contemplated killing you." He confessed.

"You'd left your sword by the bed. I held onto it, and thought about using it to hack your head off. But I just couldn't do it. And then I contemplated simply stealing the key from around your neck and running away. But I knew if I did, I'd be free, but I'd never see you again. For some reason, I would miss you. For some reason I liked you. Perhaps at that time in our lives I didn't love you… and I only just barely liked you… but I still couldn't change my feelings. I chose to stay with you for myself. Not for you. But, maybe you can let this go. It happened about a thousand years ago. I don't even think about it anymore. You know what I do think about?"

The Dane looked over into Norway's face. Oh, the guilt in his eyes was crushing. "What?" He murmured.

"I think about how you make me feel like you, me, and the stars are the only things that exist, and how when we are together I feel like we are fire and ice when the universe was created." He allowed himself to smile softly as he quoted his lover and planted a kiss on his cheek. "We're the souls of two nations and our union is sacred. If anything it symbolizes the strength of our alliance."

This healed the Dane and brought the smile back out of him. "Norge." He purred, pressing his forehead to his smaller lover's. "You were always the smarter one in our union weren't you?"

"Yes. I know." He deadpanned. "Now, go climb up in bed."

"Now? Really?"

"You're my husband." He answered. As though it were the obvious one.

… By the time they remembered the casserole, it was ice cold.

_Mor_ = Mother in Danish

_Far_ = Father in Danish

_min kaere = My Darling _in Danish

_Nej, de__er ikke alt for__længe_. = "_No, they are not too long._" in Danish


End file.
